


New World Order

by Sarah_Ellie



Category: James Bond (Craig movies), Sherlock (TV), Skyfall (2012) - Fandom
Genre: Alternate Universe - Apocalypse, M/M, Post-Reichenbach, Q is a Holmes
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2013-05-19
Updated: 2013-08-11
Packaged: 2017-12-12 08:37:23
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 5
Words: 7,536
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/809559
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Sarah_Ellie/pseuds/Sarah_Ellie
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Q and Bond miraculously survive an intense bombing of London from political foes. In the aftermath, they retreat and build a compound, where they begin to piece their lives back together with a small group of other survivors.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. The Beginning

Q’s mobile rang. 

He shifted in his seat and gave an apologetic nod to M before ending the call. It was R, who should have known better than to call him during a double-oh’s debriefing. Bond raised his eyebrows, barely hiding the smirk tugging at the corner of his lips, before returning his attention to the meeting. 

“As I was saying, this incident report indicates a loss of expenditures that far exceeds-”

The ringing began again. Q dug the phone out of his pocket. 

With an apologetic look at M, he answered it. 

“This had better be exceptionally important, R.” Q said. He was met with a cascade of words- most of them straight from the highest code alerts for international disasters. In tandem with Q’s panicked phone call, Moneypenny burst into the room- rushing behind M’s desk and ordering him to follow her. Bond stood and drew his gun.

“R, you need to initiate protocols 76315 through 76317. Get everyone out of branch. Begin evacuations of the upper levels, order them to safe zones CQ79 and CQ80. I’m on my way.” He stood and followed Moneypenny and M through to the administrative offices, which were emptying into an anterior corridor. Q hung up the phone and put it back into his pocket, where it weighed heavily. 

“What the hell is going on?” Bond asked, as Q rushed from the room. He followed close behind, hesitating only for a moment as Moneypenny split M off from the group. For a moment, Q was convinced that Bond would follow Moneypenny, ensure that M was tucked away safely; it was a surprise when Bond remained with him, bright blue eyes wrinkled in concern. 

“We’re going to have to walk and talk,” Q said grimly. He turned and began to make his way down the halls and the winding staircases towards Q Branch, taking small comfort in the sound of Bond’s footsteps trailing behind him. 

“Approximately a half hour ago North Korea launched fourteen warheads, each one of a pair targeting a specific city somewhere in the globe.” Q said, pushing open a corridor doorway. Unlike the upstairs, where people had begun to be evacuated, the entirety of Q Branch remained at their computers. Each person was staring closely at their computer screen, typing furiously.

“R! I told you to initiate protocol 76317- why is everyone still here?” Q yelled, his voice carrying clearly to the other side of the room where R was working. She glanced up, face pale but determined. 

“They wouldn’t go, Q,” she said, walking up. “I tried, they won’t leave unless the order comes from you.” 

“Bloody hell- they’re running out of time!” Q snapped. He spun around, and slammed into the hard wall of Bond’s chest. 

“Q- fucking talk to me!” Bond grabbed Q by the upper arms for a moment, touch firm but without violence. 

“Two of those warheads are headed for London.” Q said breathlessly, staring Bond hard in the eyes. “We have seven minutes and counting to get everyone into a bomb-proof bunker.”

“Nuclear?” Bond asked. 

“No, but it’s not going to make too much of a bloody difference- we’re going to be at ground zero.” 

“What can I do?” Bond asked immediately, eyes making a circuit of the room. 

“Get yourself to a bunker, James.” Q said, glancing around the branch at his staff. “I need to know that you’re safe. Make sure that M and Moneypenny are okay.” Q turned and made to move away, but his hand was snatched up by Bond.

He leaned in close to Q’s ear, and snuck the smallest of kisses onto Q’s jaw before pulling away.“If you think I’m leaving you, you’re mad.” Bond said lowly.

“Initiate protocol 76317.” Q said loudly to the room.Slowly, everyone stopped typing and looked at him for a moment. “I said initiate the goddamn protocol- get out!” Q yelled while walking through the branch. Immediately, everyone rose and turned towards R, who began to lead them from the room. She cast a last look at Q before she left, giving a partial wave to Bond and Q both before disappearing through a set of double doors. 

He watched them disappear and then turned, heading towards his office. “Four minutes.” he said, swallowing nervously.

“James, you need to go to the shelter.” Q said, stopping when he saw Bond following him once again.

“I’m not going anywhere, Q.” Bond replied, standing behind Q’s desk as the younger man began to type furiously. “What are you doing?”

“Someone needs to shut down the protocols for the MI6 exterior.” Q said as he input strings of code. “We have enough weaponry in this building to cause considerable damage to London.”

“Aren’t the bombs already going to do that?” Bond asked. He couldn’t believe he was being so calm in light of his home, his city, part of his _country_ nearly obliteration. 

“They will level the city’s surface and up to a certain depth, but this is nothing compared to the damage that will be incurred if the MI6 weapons defences are tapped as a result of the explosion.” 

“What will happen?” Bond asked.He glanced at his watch. Two minutes to go. 

“London will be a crater. The combination of arms will create a massive hole stretching from Manchester to Brighton and as far west as Exeter. They’ll see the flames in bloody Belfast.” Q said. He watched in relief as the first three sets of defensive armories were engaged. 

“James, I need to bring down the last levels of defense.” Q said,turning around. “I need you to leave. There’s enough time, I can lock the perimeters down behind you.” 

“For the last fucking time, Q, I’m not going anywhere.” Bond replied. This time, he knelt at Q’s side, so that Q was looking down at him. “I have no interest in leaving you, certainly not now.”

“We could die,James.” Q whispered. He himself had resigned himself to that fate the moment that he had accepted his position as Quartermaster. In a very similar way, Bond had given himself over to a fate similar, but the double-oh’s survival instincts were supposed to kick in first and foremost. “I’ve no idea whether we can survive, this high up from the bunker.”  
“Then we die.” Bond shrugged, squeezing Q’s knee. “Enact the last protocols.” 

With a deep breath, Q plugged in the final lines of code. When he finished, he rolled his chair slightly away from his computer, and listened to the metallic groaning in the walls as the building shut down around them. The lights went out, and automatically he reached out for Bond, relieved when a hand grasped his.

“I’m frightened.” Q said, so quietly that James had only the slightest possibility of hearing him. For a single moment, a crack showed in Bond’s armor. He swallowed heavily and pulled Q down to sit on the floor with him, holding his Quartermaster close as the final seconds ticked down for the world outside.


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you to Jen (ConsultingWriters) and Krispyskreme for looking over this chapter! <3

At precisely 6:07 a.m. Q sat bolt upright in bed, his body shuddering from his nightmares.

Across from the bed,seated at a dingy wooden table, was Bond. He glanced up from the knives that he was cleaning-damp rag running over the blades in practiced gestures- and smiled, worry barely concealed behind his eyes.He put down the kakri that he had been working on and moved over towards the bed, sitting next to Q. 

“Same as always?” Bond asked, pressing a kiss to Q’s temple. Q nodded and ran his fingers through his hair, which was cut much closer to his scalp than he had ever worn it before. One of his arms was a patchwork of scars, licked on in the pattern of burns. The smallest finger of his right hand was missing as well. 

“I keep trying to get the bloody sound out of my head, but apparently I won’t be having much luck with that any time soon.” Q sighed, turning to press a kiss against Bond’s lips before he rolled out of bed and padded over to a crudely constructed workstation. 

It was just barely two years since the bombs had soared across the world, taking out New York, Washington, Paris, Moscow, Hong Kong, Tokyo, and London inside of seconds. Two years since Bond and Q had to fight and crawl their way out of the rubble of MI6, only to find that large expanses of London had been completely levelled. Q was seriously injured, and spent weeks recovering with only Bond’s assistance and scavenged medical materials from the remains of MI^. For the first six months they had remained close to headquarters, waiting for a directive to come, for someone to take over the mess that had torn England to its knees. When none came, they packed up a vehicle- re-built through Q’s mechanical engineering and Bond’s limited knowledge of cars- and siphoned enough gas to get them out of the city. They settled in a suburb a few hours away. 

Most of what they had carried with them had been supplies. They found an abandoned warehouse and factory with a security system already standing. Q spent weeks fiddling with wires and generators and ordering Bond about so that the agent would produce a proper ethanol. Finally, Q was able to get a computer- heavily modified and stripped down to nearly nothing- to work. Using it, he began to make enhancements through MI6 coding that he had somehow managed to store and carry with him through the blast.

Meanwhile, Bond had set about emptying the warehouse and using its contents to fortify the fence around the land. He worked tirelessly until he had essentially created a compound for Q and himself to move within freely. From there, he set about planting seeds he had picked from rotting fruit while Q engineered water collection systems and got the lowest floor of the building- which was underground- running on electricity. It would only last for as long as the light bulbs did, but it was the best the he could do for the moment. 

“I don’t think it’s the sort of sound that you’re likely to forget, Q.” Bond said from the bed, watching as Q pulled up a cross section from each of the four walls of the compound, inspecting the strength of the electric current running through each of them. Next, he made note of the thermal footprints along each guard post. Everything seemed accounted for- eight guards in total, two on each wall. 

“You’re likely right.” Q replied, typing quickly. It had taken a long time to get used to the finger missing on his right hand, nearly as long as it took for the pain of the burns to fade away. He was just barely used to the shiny, mismatched skin running from his arm to his shoulder and across the right side of his torso. He was lucky, the fire from the bombs could have killed him. Instead, they only left him moderately deformed. Even when they had left London, and most of Q’s nights were spent wiring and going through the guts of old bits of tech, Q hadn’t been ready to deal with the injuries. Bond hadn’t gotten out of MI6 without injury too,of course, but his were neat scars, tucked away on his back and torso. They weren’t anything that had to be worn in front of the rest of the compound. 

“I’m taking the men out of the West Gate today.” Bond said, getting up from the bed. “Renn was saying that he saw movement out in the fields last night about a kilometre out. We’re going to go out and see whether or not it’s a threat.”

“Take a com.” Q said, pulling a meticulously drawn map of the area surrounding the compound out from a shelf beside his desk.”I don’t have thermosensitive reads that far away, I won’t be able to do much but be ready to send out backup.”

“I’m sure it’s just cattle or something.” Bond said, pulling his boots out from underneath a table to pull them on. The room they were in was small,windowless,and resultantly dark besides the incredibly dim glow of Q’s computer. There were candles tucked away somewhere in the room, but neither man could be bothered to waste a perfectly good candle. Q pulled up a usage meter from the computer’s main screen, which to Bond looked like something out of a tech-savvy nineties film. Q carefully logged a series of numbers into a notebook and then set about shutting the computer down. 

“How are we doing?” Bond asked, glancing at the notebook. 

“We’ll be okay for a bit longer.” Q replied, tucking the notebook away. He had to monitor the electricity of the compound very, very carefully. He was careful never to run the computer longer than what would be comparable to a few hours of actual electricity. Their generator, which had been two weeks of scavenging and welding without proper tools, could only handle so much output in a given week. “I think it’s time to set up thermal readers farther out in the field.”

“You’re not leaving the compound.” Bond said immediately.

“Who the hell else is going to do it, then?” Q asked. “We have an electrician, and you have me. That’s the extent of your technical support, James.” 

Bond’s jaw went tight. He had always been protective of Q, even before the world had gone to shit, but he had been worse since the bombs had dropped. Watching Q burn alive, and then nearly succumb to his injuries, had brought the protective nature out in force, despite the fact that it had been years. 

“You’re to be armed.” Bond said. 

“We’re already running low on reserves.” Q argued. “You know I’m far from a crack shot.”

“I don’t care, bring a gun anyway. We’ll scavenge early if we have to, or hell- raid another camp.”  
“That doesn’t exactly maintain a low profile.” Q said pointedly. There were other compounds nearby, also well-armed and fairly militant. The difference between them was that Q and Bond were more obviously armed, with infrared cameras and gun turrets attached to their perimeter fence, and far less likely to engage in combat. They made a show of being powerful, but had no interest in external conquest. 

“Make the announcement.” Bond said tucking his knives into the different locations on his person; in his belt, boots, at his thigh, shoulder, and so on. “Put Liam in charge- I want him on the coms.” 

Liam was an electrician that had been drawn to the compound briefly after Q had managed to get the generator up and running. Trading shelter for expertise, Bond and Q had allowed him and his family to remain with them. This bumped their number up to seven- Bond, Q, Liam, his wife Gloria, and a teenage girl and boy who had both since become key components of Bond’s military defenses. Liam had become a second-hand man for Q, fulfilling the role that R once had. 

“What about John?” Q asked, turning to Bond. John Watson was their resident medic, but was also the only other person in the compound with official military training. 

“We’ll put him in the tech room with Liam, so he can orchestrate backup or be ready to provide medical assistance if something goes wrong.” Bond said. “I’ll have Kara be my secondary.”

Q nodded as he pulled an open-backed cell phone from a pile of wires. He handed it to Bond, along with an earpiece the plugged into the phone. In another world, their constant backup plans would have been ridiculous. Even in Q Branch, contingency plans were hazy at best until the situations fully revealed themselves. Now that an entire infrastructure depended on the survival of Bond and Q, however, things were handled differently. 

“You go pull the team together, I have to go and get Liam so we can get the supplies rounded up.”

Q didn’t mention how much of a risk it was to have both of the compound’s leaders out in the field, essentially putting all of their eggs in one basket. Bond knew, which explained why his entire body was wired tight, as if read to spring at any moment. It wasn’t difficult to feel the stare of Bond’s eyes on Q’s back as he pulled a pair of jeans over his pants and tugged on an olive green overshirt, effectively hiding his scarred arm. A beige messenger bag was slung low on Q’s hip, into which he began to tuck various tools and wires. He then pulled a pair of boots out from under his desk, and settled into a chair to begin tugging them on. 

“Ready?” Bond asked after Q straightened from lacing up his boots. 

“Ready.”


	3. Chapter 3

Getting Liam out of bed wasn’t difficult.Q knocked heavily on the door to the man’s living space, which he shared with his wife and son, Alex. The son answered the door with a smart salute to Q, who nodded in return. It seemed superfluous, the military formalities, but Bond was insistent that they instilled a sense of legitimacy, so Q wasn’t about to argue.

“Alex, you’re to report to Bond at the West Gate.” Q said. Alex’s older sister Kara was Bond’s second-in-command, but Alex had been training for nearly as long. The boy, who had recently turned nineteen, left immediately, stopping only to grab his boots and his gun.

“Liam? I need your help.” Q said over Alex’s bustling, glancing around the room. It had been a part of a series of administrative offices at some point- and then maybe moved on to storage rooms. Now, the windows were cloaked by blackout curtains, and makeshift beds sat in both far corners of the room. A small table took up most of the center, and there wa a shelf against one wall where most of the family’s personal belongings were kept. There was a blank space on the shelves; their daughter had moved out and into a free space on the other side of the compound the week before.

“What’s going on, Q?” Liam asked, standing from where he sat at the table. 

“There’s been movement a few meters out, so we’re sending a team to check it out.” Q said, noticing the look of fear that crossed Gloria’s face. “While Bond runs the team, I’m going to be setting up replicators for the thermal scans. If we can get them powered up and get that second generator running we’ll be able to have a warning system."

“What do you need me to do?”Liam asked, moving closer. It was where he fell pathetically short from R; she had been able to anticipate, or at the very least guess intelligently. But, Q reminded himself, none of Q branch- or MI6 for that matter- had survived the bombing.

Liam needed direct instruction. Whether he had always been that way, or whether the bombings had shaken him so deeply that he was only willing to follow and not lead, Q didn't know. Nor, honestly, did he care- so long as what he needed to get done was completed. 

“Meet me in tech.” Q said to Liam, giving a grim smile to Gloria as he made to leave. He turned and left; descending the two stories to the warehouse-level of the compound. Dim lights with low wattage glowed in the far sides of the room. In one corner, a two women were laboring diligently; one building a fire and the other stirring a large pot. The room smelled like cabbage, and Q cringed internally, but gave a friendly wave with his damaged hand to the woman who had turned away from the pot and began chopping vegetables. 

At the back of the room was a doorway that was shut and locked with a series of padlocks, each one rigged to have to be opened in a very specific order. Patiently, Q began to enter the combinations, and plucked a key out of a few similar-looking padlocks that he had secured toa lanyard that was looped through his belt hoops. With an impatient push the door opened, and Q picked a flashlight off of a nearby shelf and begin to grab numerous bits of tech; inspecting them closely before putting them into his bag. 

Last, he went to the very back of the room and opened a cabinet. A number of guns- some slightly worse for wear- were hung across a dilapidated display, their magazines lined up at the bottom of the cabinet. Q pulled down the handgun that he was most familiar with- a beretta px4, and chose the corresponding magazine. After a moment of thought, he grabbed a magazine for a Walther PPK, which was a match for Bond’s gun. He then turned and left the storage room, taking great care to re-engage all of the locks before he went up a floor to the tech room. 

Liam was waiting for Q in the tech room, in front of a partially built generator. John wasn’t there yet, but Q trusted that he would be coming soon. 

“How many nights of blackouts would we need to power the thermal imaging?” Q asked, setting his bag carefully down on a table in the corner before crouching low to read a meter on the generator’s side. 

“Three, if you want them up and running immediately.” Liam said. “But with some welding, we may be able to finish this up today. We just need to dip into the ethanol stores.”

_first the electricity,then the guns and ammo, now the bloody ethanol._ Q thought to himself, frustrated. For the millionth time, he felt the pang of mourning for the days where resources were at his beck and call. 

“We’re coming to the end of the growing season, we’re going to run out of compost to make more ethanol.”Q said pointedly,and Liam shrugged. 

“Not much to be done about it, Q. It’s this or the defenses.” 

“Fine.” Q said. “We’ll do that bit tonight. Right now I need you on the coms. Bond has the other, I want you to be ready to send Watson out for backup if Bond asks for it.” 

“I can do that.” 

Q left not long after, passing a harried-looking Watson on his way. The army doctor was carrying a hefty bag- presumably filled with medical supplies. Q didn’t have time to stop and chat. Bond would have had a laborious discussion with Watson about what was needed from him. Q could only give a perfunctory nod to the man before heading up another flight of stairs and out into the blazing heat of the summer sun.   
Over by the West Gate where Bond was standing in front of a small group of men and women. Each was standing with a knife on one hip and a gun on the other. As Q approached, he noticed a number of lingering glances from the members of the unit, and he quickly deduced that at least half of them were charged with his personal safety instead of the investigation at hand. He sighed, and hurried his gait. 

“Alright, let’s move out!” Bond cried, gesturing to one of the women propped in a perch not much taller than the guard fence. The fence was mostly metal, with sections of wood and even small bits of stone. The woman reached for a long pole that was angled off of the gate and pulled it, creating a five-foot wide opening that allowed the unit to slip through two at a time. 

Q jogged after them, fully aware of the three soldiers- for lack of a better term- that fell into step a few feet behind him. He rolled his eyes and pulled a gadget from his bag, which he balanced carefully in his left hand. When activated, it would give him a precise read on his distance from the compound’s center, which was where the tech room was strategically located. Up ahead, Bond signalled for everyone to fan out, glancing back briefly to check on Q. 

It was a credit to Bond’s instinct that he stopped within a few metres of where the disturbance had been noted the evening beforehand, about a kilometre from the compound. Q stopped when the gadget in his hand read out 884.543 metres, and moved until he was standing solidly at an 884m reading. Then, he began to pull the tech from his bag, keen on inserting the series of reciprocating rods that would expand the thermal readings out into the area surrounding the compound. 

“Latest technology from Q Branch indeed.” Q muttered under his breath as he worked; the rods had been designed for a different project entirely, but in their most basic state would do the job that Q currently needed without much difficulty. 

Q would need to set the rods at 300 metre intervals in a circle around the compound, but needed to see if the technology would work before anything else. Carefully, he finished the complicated network of wires that he needed and then moved eastward, doing his best to approximate the lateral distance. It was difficult to finagle some of the more delicate wires with his missing finger, but he managed in the end. 

Once he had the second rod set up and properly networked, he waved Bond over. The older man jogged back quickly, casting his eyes around the lush terrain to spot any oddities. It was difficult to see clearly, because the grass was littered with debris and rocks, but the soldiers continued to pick their way around. Immediately, Kara took over the point position, organizing the search while Bond moved close to Q. 

“I need to speak to Liam.” Q said once Bond was close enough. Wordlessly, Bond took the headset out of his ear and handed the phone to Q, before turning back to the landscape and peering closely for anything out of place. The other soldiers fanned out farther, past Q and closer to the other members of the unit.

“Liam? It’s Q.”

“What do you need me to do?” Liam asked. 

Carefully, Q directed Liam through the process of initiating the reciprocal rods. 

“You should be able to see a triangulated reading that extends beyond our borders.” Q said to Liam. “There are three of us standing within the boundaries.”

“Are you sure about that?” Liam asked after a moment’s hesitation.

Confused, Q glanced around. He and Bond were absolutely within the borders. One more soldier, who was heading back towards the initially placed rod, would be within the signal.

“Yeah, Liam. There are three of us. You should see three signatures.” Q said. 

“Q, the thermals are picking up on four.” Liam replied. 

There was barely enough time for Q to turn to Bond before a gunshot sounded.

Q watched as the bullet tore into Bond’s body.


	4. Chapter 4

Bond was laying on a makeshift cot in the small section of the compound that had been sectioned off as Medical. He was shirtless, and a thick swath of padding was taped expertly to his side where the bullet had torn through his skin and grazed his ribs. Q sat next to the bed, frozen, watching as the man slept. 

They had no anesthesia; not even something general to numb the wound. Bond had been awake, his teeth bearing down on a strip of wood, while Watson had sewn the wound and repaired what damage he could. Bond was lucky- the wound was clean, and barring infection would not be fatal. 

Adrenaline had pulled Bond through the procedure, but now he was asleep. Watson popped in occasionally, checking on the wound and listening to Bond’s heartbeat. They didn’t have a monitor, or proper medications. There was very little that they would be able to do. 

It had all happened very, very fast. Under a particularly cavernous rock had been a man; tall, lean, with long black hair and high cheekbones. His face was obscured by a careful application of mud. He had pulled the trigger that sent the bullet screaming through Bond’s body, but had not anticipated Bond’s immediate response. Before the shooter could do more than stand and turn, a bullet went through his calf, and while Bond crumpled to the ground with a hand pressed to his side, a nearby soldier had rushed over and finished subduing the intruder. 

They had carried Bond and the intruder, whose presence Q ignored, back to the compound. Q and Bond went back first, rushing straight to Watson. The soldiers who were attending to the intruder waited in the field, stripping the man of his weapons and checking for incendiary devices.

After Bond’s wound was cared after, Watson moved on to a separate room where the mud-coated man was being kept. He wouldn’t use any limited supplies in stabilizing him, but Watson had insisted on at least stemming the blood flow. Against his better judgement, Q ordered that the man be kept alive. Bond would want him questioned. 

“Q?” Bond asked groggily a few hours later. Q had nodded off by his bedside, an old, ratty novel loose in his hands. 

“James, thank god.” Q said. Relief broke over him in a cascading wave. He knew that Watson had every expectation that Bond would pull through, but it didn’t stop him from waiting, worried and damn near panic-ridden, nonetheless.

“You’re such a bloody worrywart.” Bond smiled, wincing as he shifted. He was attempting to sit up, and Q stood to help him. 

“Watson is going to say that you need rest.” Q murmured, grasping Bond’s arms to help pull him upwards. “And I’m in full mind to agree with him. You need to lay down.” 

“I want to see him.” Bond said, his voice filled with gravel. Q knew that he was referring to the man that had shot him. “I need to know who sent him.” 

Carefully, Q let go of Bond’s arm, leaving the man to support himself. 

“James, I damn near almost lost you today.” Q said,quietly, resting his hands on Bond’s legs. His skin broke out into gooseflesh as he spoke. “This whole fucking nightmare of a life- the compound, the hunger, the utter defenselessness- I do it to be with you, and you were almost taken from me today. You are not going to see that man right now, whoever the fuck he is.”

“Q-”

_”No, James.”_ Q insisted. Bond seemed to visibly deflate in front of him, and Q’s expression softened. “Just come back with me for tonight, please. John and Liam will look after things until tomorrow.” 

With a sigh, Bond agreed. It took a few moments to maneuver him to stand, and Q felt the bulk of Bond’s considerable weight as they left the room and made their way to the small area that they had begun to call home. While bracing himself to support Bond, Q took out his keys and unlocked the padlock that they used to keep their room secure. 

Quietly, Q lead Bond over to the bed, where the older man laid down with a stifled groan. The room was dark, save for a single candle that Q lit with a match. It was vanilla scented- some scavenged find from a nearby home. 

“Q, come lay with me.” Bond said. The strain of his voice told Q that he was tired. 

“You should really sleep.” Q replied, perching on the end of the bed, near Bond’s feet. He tried to make sure that he didn’t unsettle Bond when he moved.   
“Will you just get the fuck up here?” Bond said, exasperated. Quick to oblige, Q crawled onto the bed and then sidled up close to Bond, careful to avoid the injury on his right side. He was surprised when Bond stretched out his left arm to fold Q in close to him, tucking the younger against his chest. They were quiet for a moment, until Bond turned his head to the side and stooped a kiss onto Q’s forehead. 

“I’m sorry to give you a scare.” Bond whispered, and Q laughed. They were the same words Bond would say when he went off-com during MI6 assignments. Their post-assignment reunions had typically begun with layers of apologies and assurances that it would never happen again, although it was never true. “I didn’t realize how hard this is for you.”

“It’s hard for everyone, James.” Q said, trailing his hand over Bond’s bare abdomen. His left hand, the hand that was fully intact, was trapped between his body and James’. It was his damaged hand, scarred and a finger short, that touched the edges of the bandage on Bond’s skin. “Everything is so different, everything is so much harder.” 

“It doesn’t have to be.” Bond said, glancing over. Q opened his mouth to respond, but was cut off when Bond leaned in to kiss him; his lips and tongue hot against Q’s own. There was a desperation, a passion in the patterns that Bond licked into Q’s mouth. The flick of tongue behind his teeth, the small bites laid against his lips, went directly to Q’s cock. Heat built on Q’s cheeks, and he noticed with his roaming fingers that Bond was hard as well. 

“Come here.” Bond murmured into Q’s open mouth. When Q hesitated, Bond pulled him so that he was straddling his erection. The effort prompted a heavy wince of pain and a clutching gesture to Bond’s side, but it faded quickly enough. 

“You need to be rest- _fuck_ ” Q whimpered as Bond ran a hand from his stomach and towards the waistband of his jeans, which were deftly unfastened and pulled open to expose his pants. With his thumb, Bond pulled down the elastic to expose the head of Q’s cock, which was already dampened by precome. He thumbed at Q’s slit absently, watching with a smile as Q pressed himself downwards to carefully grind against Bond’s erection. 

They were both undressed soon enough, and Q was straddling Bond’s hips once again, after insisting that Bond cushion his back with the sheets from the bed. With deft hands, Q prepared himself while Bond watched, idly running his hands along his own length to the sight of the other fingering himself. 

Q took out the bottle of lubricant that they saved- rarely used, and nearly empty- and used the barest amounts to swipe up Bond's cock. 

It was a tentative, careful movement that Q made as he slowly slid himself down on Bond’s cock. Determined that Bond not injure himself, Q kept his weight in his legs and arms, which were tucked on either side of Bond's body. Only one hand remained planted firmly on Bond’s shoulder, keeping the blond pinned against the mattress as he fucked himself on Bond’s cock. The tightness of his muscles, combined with the heat and the drag of skin on skin sent bright, white stars behind Q's eyes, and it took every ounce of self control that he had not to press himself wholly against Bond's skin. 

“Christ-” Bond moaned, one hand on Q’s right hip and the other sliding languidly along his cock, eliciting low moans from Q’s lips every time Bond’s calloused thumb dug lightly against his slit. The attention was enough to allow Q to forget that his torso was a patchwork of different colored skin, something he rarely bared even to Bond.

Together they built themselves closer and closer; Bond orgasming mere moments before Q, who was quick to cover himself with his shirt to avoid sullying Bond’s bandage. He collapsed next to Bond, breathless and sweating, and allowed himself to be pulled close to Bond’s uninjured side once again. 

“The candle.” Q murmured, tucking his head underneath Bond’s chin. 

“It’s nearly done, we’ll let it go.” Bond whispered, trailing a hand over the pale skin of Q’s shoulder. 

Not long after, the candle flickered and then petered out. Comforted by the darkness for once, instead of threatened by it, Q allowed himself to be lulled into a deep sleep; pulled by the evenness of Bond’s breaths.


	5. Chapter 5

There was no chance of keeping Bond in bed any longer than strictly necessary the next morning. He got up and dressed with minimal assistance, stopping long enough to pour some water from a gallon jug into a shallow bowl and using a minimal amount of soap to wipe his body down. He needed help to do his injured side, which Q was more than happy to provide; catching quick peeks at the skin around the wound to check for infection. Q bathed as well, but was careful to turn away from Bond as he traced along the scars that decorated the side of his body. The clarity of morning had returned his insecurities, and he was nearly grateful that Bond was single-mindedly focused on the man that they had in custody. 

“No one should be allowed to leave the compound today.” Bond said, carefully pulling a t-shirt over his head. 

“We need to finish the perimeter.” Q argued, although he knew it was useless. The shooter would have Bond scared for everyone, especially Q. It would be like the month after the Silva disaster- any prisoner kept in Headquarters suddenly had a dual-guard and Bond’s frequent presence outside of the cell, so long as he was in the country. 

“It’ll get done.” Bond said, averting his eyes as Q began to get dressed. “If we can get that second generator up and running, then maybe we won’t have to surge the system for the perimeter. Work on that first.” 

“Don’t tell me what to do, James.” Q froze, frustration evident in his voice. He caught the taken aback look on Bond’s face, but refused to apologize. Instead, he pulled on the last of his clothes and sighed, running his fingers through his close-cropped hair. “Who is with the shooter?”

“John, I assume.” Bond replied. “He spent the night putting the man back together.” 

“At least stop for breakfast, first.” Q said. He knew that Bond hadn’t eaten in almost a day. Gloria had stopped by the medical bay to drop off some cabbage soup to them both, but Bond hadn’t been awake to have any, so Q had sent one of the bowls back. 

“I’ll get there, Q, I promise.” Bond said before he tucked his gun into his aging shoulder holster and left. Q watched him leave, yearning suddenly for a cigarette or a shot of whiskey or anything to make him feel the least bit like he was holding himself together properly, before he followed Bond out the door and towards the room where the shooter was being kept. 

Bond was already inside when Q arrived, surprised to see John Watson standing outside of the room stoically. The Walther PPK, which Q had just watched Bond tuck away moments before, was in John’s hand.

“He didn’t want to risk it.” John explained, handing the gun to Q. “I wouldn’t either, mind.” 

“Did you ask him anything?” Q asked, casting a wary look at the closed door. 

“Of course I did- I asked his name, where he was from, who had sent him- nothing.” John replied, his tone betraying his exhaustion. “Not that there was much that I could do. I’m a doctor, my job is to heal people, not do more damage.” 

Q didn’t have a response. On the other side of the door, Bond was doing the sort of thing that many years ago, he had been trained to do by the British government. He thought that he could hear sounds through the door, but Q quickly shook them from his head. A few minutes later, Bond came out of the room. He was stretching the fingers on his right hand, and his jaw was tense. 

“Did he say anything?” John asked. Q could have told him not to bother; he already knew what the answer was. 

“He’ll need to be cleaned up.” Bond said instead of answering, shaking his head.“Maybe get some of that mud off of him- I want to know what he looks like.”

“Right then.” Watson nodded. He moved past Bond to re-enter the room, dragging one leg a bit heavily as he opened the door and disappeared inside. 

“Q, things have changed- we’re going to need to set up those thermal rods.” Bond said, glancing back at the door. “He’s had interrogation training. That doesn’t bode well for us.”

“You’re not going back out there.” Q said, tightening his grip on Bond’s gun. “We don’t know if anyone else is waiting, and your body can’t take another injury.”

“That’s besides the point, Q.” Bond said lowly, his eyes casting a glance up and down each side of the hall. “We won’t know if there are others until they’re damn near on our doorstep. We need to get the thermal perimeter expanded.” 

“I agree, James- but that doesn’t change the fact that you aren’t coming out with me.” Q argued. “Get me Kara, have your unit survey ahead of me while the secondary stays close, and hopefully we can avoid another firefight.” 

“Absolutely not, Q, there’s no way that-”

“You can stay in the tech room with Liam.” Q said, cutting over Bond’s voice. “If anything goes wrong, you’d be the first one to know.”

“Q-”

“No, James. You’re not coming with me. That’s the bloody end of it.” Q said, taking a step back from the older man so that he could look him dead in the eye. 

“I’m going to question the hostage again.” Bond said, his tone dangerously even. 

“Don’t kill him, James.” Q warned, before turning on his heel and walking away. It was amazing how in less than a day, tensions had crept up once again. 

Later that morning, Q found himself back in the landscape outside of the compound, walking in a meticulous circle. He was being largely ignored by the military unit surrounding him, who were checking under every bit of scrubgrass and boulder that they could find. It took the better part of the day to work around the entire compound. The sun had begun to burn the back of Q’s neck when he finally pulled the final reciprocal rod from his bag. 

“Last rod is being set.” Q said into his earpiece, fiddling with the wires. When he finished, he stood up and told Liam to begin checking the perimeter. 

“Triangulating the signal...” Liam replied. “I have three people inside of your sector, seven in the grid total.”

Q glanced around, counting quickly. “That’s correct. Has Bond come down to tech yet, Liam?”

“No sign of him.” Liam replied. “Watson came down a bit ago, however. Apparently standing outside while Bond did his thing was making him squeamish.”

“We’re on our way back. Let me know if he turns up.” Q said, concerned. He signaled to Kara that he was done, and they began the en masse job back to the compound, hugging the main gate close until they reached the West Gate. 

“Q? Get down to medical.” Liam’s voice suddenly demanded. 

“What’s wrong? What’s happened?” Q asked, passing through the gate and into the compound before setting off at a sprint.

“Just get here.” Liam said. He disconnected the com, and Q felt bile rising in the back of his throat. A complication with Bond- the shooter had done damage, or a bit of shrapnel dislodged, something deadly, something dangerous. 

He banged through the doors of medical and crouched over his knees, wheezing for breath. A pair of strong arms wrapped around him, and Q was surprised to see Bond looking down at him, eyes tight with concern and face grim. 

“Are you okay?” Q gasped, standing upright. 

“I’m fine, Q, I promise.” Bond assured him. 

Panic gave way to rage, and Q found himself standing, glaring at Bond with cold eyes. 

“Then why in the bloody hell are we in medical? What the fuck is going on?” Q demanded. He noticed for the first time that there was a sheet hung in the corner of the room, blocking the view of the main bed. 

“Fuck, James- what happened?” Q asked, stepping closer to the bed. Before he could pull the curtain aside, however, Bond took him by the wrist and held him in place. 

“He gave us a name, Q.” Bond said quietly. “It took a damn long time, and as soon as we figured out who he was we brought him down here. He won’t be permanently injured, at any rate.”

“What are you talking about, James?” Q asked, brows knit tight in concern. “Who is he?”

“He claims to be Sherlock Holmes.” Bond said. 

Q’s jaw dropped open, and he ripped the curtain to the bed aside. Sure enough, laying against the dingy sheets, was Sherlock Holmes. He was scratched and bruised, clearly battered, but he could recognize the face- finally cleared of the mud and bracken. 

It was his older brother.


End file.
